“I already have a dog,” Matt demurred.
I looked around for another drink.
“Mr. Frost!” One of my mom’s friends waved. She was wearing a sweater that read Merry Catmas! “I wanted to discuss our feral cat program with you.”
“He’s not donating,” I warned the woman.
“We don’t want him to donate. We just want him to agree to keep a feral cat colony on his property to help keep the pests down like they do at the compost pile.”
“Actually, I would be interested in exploring that as a pest control option,” Matt replied.
“Well, hello, my new favorite person!” my mom exclaimed.
Another man pulled out a whole binder of information.
I went in search of alcohol and snacks while Matt patiently let the feral cat committee talk about how they would care for the cats if he just let them live on his farm.
At least my mom had tasty Christmas snacks. I tore off a piece of the cheesy monkey bread with marinara dipping sauce and grabbed several creamy, salty bacon deviled eggs. On the other side of the room, people were now regaling Matt with pictures of the various cats they wanted to put on his farm.
“God, he was being such a good sport,” I said to myself as I ate a deviled egg then poured myself some more Christmas punch.
Merrie:My mom is trying to dump a hundred cats on Matt’s property.
Olivia:A sexy picture is not going to cut it. You better have something pornographic planned for him tonight.
Merrie:There is nothing I can do to make up for the fact that he had to wear an ugly sweater and listen to my mom and her friends talk about Mrs. Mittens The Cat. This is the shittiest evening ever.
Merrie:I’m shocked he hadn’t left yet.
Olivia:He still wants to hit that *smirk face emoji*
Merrie:Also my mom is still together with Brody.
Olivia:I like your mom, so no offense meant, but there is no way he doesn’t have ulterior motives.
Merrie:I mean she doesn’t have much. All her money she dumps in the caring and keeping of feral cats. She has like three mortgages out on her house.
Olivia:Maybe your mom’s good in bed?
I poured myself another serving of the Christmas punch from the big bowl on the table.
“There’s my favorite grandniece!” Aunt Bettina called out, hustling up to the snack table. She set down a plate of everything bagels and pigs in a blanket that had a little bit of herb cream cheese in each one.
I took three.
“I’m glad you came! Though,” she said, “I would have thought you would have been in that man’s bed getting the stress fucked out of you.”
I poured myself another drink.
“I wanted to regift something to you. I won this at Ida’s Christmas party,” Bettina said, pulling out a sexy fur-trimmed Mrs. Claus outfit.
“Oh my god.”
“You can really surprise Matt with it,” she said. “I’ve been taking a stripping class, you know, and I can show you some moves. I even have a portable stripper pole, and I can help you install it. Well, I’ll have to direct. I threw out my wrist last night giving Bert a hand job. These old guys.” She shook her head. “I’m surprised I didn’t tear his dick off, it took him so long to come. I’m sure Matt doesn’t have those problems, though.”
I stuffed a handful of pigs in a blanket in my mouth. Bettina stuck the outfit in my purse. “The long and short of it is to keep your chest out and make sure your hips have some flexibility and swing.”
I’m burning this outfit as soon as I can.
